


Forgotten

by preciousghouls



Series: Seeking [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Supernatural Elements, ability to see ghosts, pro volleyball player oikawa, university volleyball player iwachan, what to tag? idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousghouls/pseuds/preciousghouls
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, aged 21. He has the ability to see the unseen. He was neutral about this, until he meets Oikawa Tooru, a spirit that, for some reason, he is able to touch.





	Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IWA-CHAN! 
> 
> I didn't plan this, really, but since it's his birthday, I just gotta upload this, right?! This time it's a supernatural AU. Angsty oiiwa is always Good TM. The line spacing gets different midway, so I'm sorry about that. Still, hope you enjoy the ride!

**Full name:** Iwaizumi Hajime   
**Gender:** Male   
**Age:** 21   
**Occupation:** Student at X University   
**Special talents:** Efficient, quick learner, ability to see ghosts

  
  
Hajime doesn’t know why he writes that, and with a gasp he hurries to cancel the line. The form tears at his furious scribbles, and he lets out an exasperated sigh.   
  
“Ability to see ghosts.” It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. Yet, because it’s ridiculous, Hajime can’t include it in his resume. Staring at the mess he made of the form, Hajime crumples it and grabs a fresh sheet.   
  
Just then, a figure shimmers beside him. He doesn’t even flinch, recognizing the aura it gives off.   
  
“Job’s here not bad,” the voice comes directly from Hajime’s head, the way spirits communicate with him.   
  
Hajime doesn’t bother looking up as he replies, focusing on the details he needed to fill in. Again. “You’ve worked here too?”   
  
“Yeah,” the spirit huffs, and Hajime’s hair flutters even though the normal naked eye sees nothing. “Just about everywhere in this area, you know. I at least made sure I’ve tried everywhere before ending my life!”   
  
“Huh. Guess you’re not as incompetent as you made yourself out to be,” Hajime murmurs, refraining himself from mentioning anything relating to his spiritual encounters in his resume. He knows that if he looks up now, the counter lady will be looking at him funny. Not that he cares about what others think. Not anymore.   
  
The ghastly figure glows in delight. “Aw, Hajime-kun, was that a compliment?”   
  
Hajime sets down his pen then, folds the form neatly and fits it into the provided envelope before dropping it into the application box next to the counter.   
  
“Well, think what you want, Touma-san.” Then he’s off and heading out of the building.   
  
The spirit trails after him, making circles around Hajime, who takes no notice. “Where are you going, Hajime?”   
  
“School.”   
  
Touma halts, his features crumpling into a frown. “School on a Sunday? Yeesh, not my cup of tea. I’ll get going first, then.”   
  
“Mm. Cya.” Hajime waves, and from the corner of his eyes he sees a little boy pointing at him and whispering something to his mother. He can easily predict something along the lines of, “Mama, that person’s talking to himself!” or if he’s blunt, “Mama, that person’s a weirdo.”   
  
“Typical,” Touma scoffs at the pair before disappearing into the air, and once again Hajime is alone in the sea of people known as the heart of Tokyo. He walks briskly and with purpose, only looking ahead so he doesn’t come into eye contact with any other spirits around. Or living people, for that matter.   
  
Those as approachable as Touma are so few Hajime can count them on one hand, a fact he learned the hard way within one week of moving here from Miyagi. It really is different in the big city. He takes a right turn, to the bus stop, and it’s a blissfully quiet twenty minute ride from there.   
  
It’s one of those precious moments where he can truly relax, plug in his earbuds and listen to slow songs with his eyes closed, feeling at peace because he knows spirits can’t take transport as the reflection will destroy their form.   
  
But because the moment is so precious, the ride ends all too soon and Hajime’s pressing on the bell and alighting the bus to a crowded stop.   
  
He pulls up his sleeve; his watch read 2:15pm. With an almost sigh, Hajime makes his way down the familiar path of X University, making turns and greeting people as seen fit until he comes before a rusted door. Pushing it open, he enters Gym C, the gym typically reserved for the volleyball team, though no one seems to care for that rule.   
  
There, he sees it.   
  
A figure so pale, so faded under the light there’s no way he is human. With amber hair and eyes, he is dressed in an attire Hajime knows all too well, a large number 1 printed on the front of his shirt of white with red stripes.   
  
From the entrance where he stands, Hajime watches. The figure is standing behind the white line, a volleyball in hand. He bounces it a few times, testing it, then brings it to eye level, doing some mental calculation Hajime knows certain players do.   
  
Then he tosses the ball up, eyes never once leaving it as he sprints forward and jumps into the air, hand and ball coming into contact like they were two ends of a magnet destined to meet.   
  
Even without a net, Hajime can tell that it’s a perfect jump serve that can probably only be received by 10% of players in the country.   
  
“…Amazing.” It’s the softest of whispers, and Hajime wonder if it’s because of the emptiness of the court or the enhanced senses of the spirit, but their eyes meet.   
  
He feels a shiver down his spine at the serious eyes with a burning passion staring back. It takes only a blink for it to disappear, and Hajime thinks it’s a different person before him.   
  
“You can see me?”   
  
Hajime makes the mistake of turning left and right out of habit to check for anyone else, proof that he can hear the spirit. Oh well. “Uh, yeah.”   
  
In an instant the spirit is hovering over him, eyes sparkling so brightly as though he is a living being, and Hajime wonders how long he has been wandering like this without anyone to talk to.   
  
“You see me! Wow, people who see ghosts really exist!” Then, as if the entire situation isn’t weird enough, he sticks out his hand. “I’m Oikawa Tooru!”   
  
_Ghosts can’t shake hands,_ Hajime wants to reply, but his upbringing already has his hand outstretched, and then he’s surprised to find himself grasping onto a warm, translucent palm. He can _touch_ him. For the first time in his life, Hajime is touching a spirit.   
  
“I’m... Iwaizumi Hajime.”   
  
“Then, you’re Iwa-chan!“   
  
“What?” The nickname has Hajime choking on his words in disbelief. A grown man calling another grown man _-chan_ ? On their first meeting, nonetheless! Even with spirits, there should be a certain order of things, or so Hajime opens his mouth to say before he fails yet again.   
  
“So, Iwa-chan! What are you doing here? I thought the gym is only occupied on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturdays only?” Well, someone has certainly been doing his research. Hajime nods.   
  
“Generally, yes. But a regional competition’s coming up, so we’re having practice on Mondays and Sundays too.” Though the team is late, as usual. Universities just don’t have the passion Hajime seeks, like the kind he felt and was a part of in high school, where every match counted, where every victory he savored till no bones were left.   
  
As if on cue, the door slides open and several of the club members enter at a leisurely pace. One of them being the team captain himself. Hajime briefly notices from the corner of his sight that the spirit, Oikawa, has disappeared into thin air.   
  
Finally, one that is tactful enough to know when to leave. Thinking that to himself, Hajime hurries to greet his teammates, prepared to spend the next four hours working hard even if no one else feels even half his dedication.   
  


 

  
***

 

  


  
Practice wasn’t fruitful. Again, that’s the norm. Hajime’s teammates are nice and easygoing people, which is the problem. They’re not bad players, but they just don’t take the sport seriously. To them, club is only a pass time, only a way to gain more curriculum points needed to graduate university with a recommendation.   
  
Thinking that has Hajime feeling somewhat discouraged, and he gives a small sigh. How many does that make today? He turns off the shower and dries himself, an easy task with freshly shaved hair.   
  
“Wow, someone’s sure depressed.”   
  
Considering his daily supernatural encounters, one might expect Hajime to be used to them appearing at any time, anywhere. But he’s only human, really. A living, breathing one, so naturally he’d be freaked out when a floating figure pops out from the wall behind an expensive painting he hangs in his living room and with him freshly out of the shower in nothing but briefs.   
  
So he jumps, which causes Oikawa to jump, and they’re both a good six feet away from each other.   
  
“You!”   
  
“Oikawa,” the spirit corrects with a waggling finger.   
  
“You’re in my house!”

  
“Hey, I’m a spirit. It’s not considered a break in. Or stalking, for that matter.”   
  
Yes, Oikawa has a point, but that’s not really _the_ point. Hajime’s placed scented candles in every room, which keeps the dead away. He’s been using that since he was a little boy, and this is the first time a spirit has managed to enter his premises.   
  
“Who... _are_ you?”   
  
Oikawa frowns. “Iwa-chan, we just met not long ago.”   
  
_But you’re a spirit_ , Hajime’s mind screams. _You’re not supposed to be able to enter my house_ . Unless...?   
  
“Oi, Oikawa!”

 

“Yes?”

 

“How did you die?”

 

Hajime winces at his own words as they leave his lips. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. Forget that.”

 

But Oikawa just smiles. “We’re cool. It was after we lost the match last May. You noticed, right? About this uniform…” he forms a fist around the material he wears, “About where I’m from.”

 

The darkness that falls upon Oikawa’s face as he says those words has Hajime swallowing. Yes, he noticed. It took him a while to remember it despite being a big event in the volleyball world.

 

The Kings… The renowned volleyball team that rose to fame three years backs, and their star player who suffered an irreversible injury in their last game. Without their captain to guide them, the team lost in their first round. Since then, there has been no news from the Kings.

 

“Three months,” Oikawa states, though when Hajime looks at him he’s staring off into space, lost in his own past. “For three months, I gave my damned best. Everyday I forced myself to stand from my wheelchair and walk along those metal bars. But I couldn’t. Everyday for three months, I fell before I could take my first step. You can guess how the story ends.”

 

Hajime can. He lowers his head, suddenly unable to meet the sadness reflected in Oikawa’s eyes.

 

Then Oikawa claps his hands twice, like how a good captain would when the team’s in a pinch in an important game. Hajime’s head snaps up out of habit.

 

“Anyway! I’ve been dead for nearly a year now, so it’s about time someone noticed me!”

 

 _And that person is me_ , Hajime says in his head.

 

“And that person is you!” Oikawa points his index finger at Hajime, all smiles and the sadness from earlier completely gone. “In exchange for letting me accompany you, I’ll teach you some volleyball tricks. How’s that sound?”

 

“Suspicious,” Hajime answers automatically. “Define ‘accompanying me’.”

 

“Well, based on my calculations, ghosts are bound within a fifteen minute float from their place of death.”

 

True. Hajime nods.

 

“And it just so happens that your house and your school gym is within that range. I’m tired of spending my nights in places where other ghosts come up to me and chat me up! None seems to hang around your house though. I wonder why.”

 

It’s supposed to apply to Oikawa too, yet it doesn’t. Hajime’d like to know why himself.

 

“So! Lemme stay at your place till I manage to pass on!”

 

Hajime doesn’t even need one second to consider. “No.”

 

“Whaaaaaat? Why?” Oikawa floats in circles around Hajime, giving him a headache as he whispers why over and over in his ears like a haunted chant. Add OSTs from The Ring, and it’d be the perfect comedy horror movie. All Hajime does is close his eyes and feel his way to his bed, fall onto it, and turn off the lights.

 

Without opening his eyes, he turns to his side and let out a relaxed exhale. “What person in their right mind would let a spirit stay in their house, capable of seeing them or not?”

 

_Even though he’s so passionate about volleyball._

 

“Be gone by tomorrow, or I’ll exorcise you.”

 

“Mean! Iwa-chan, you should respect your elders!”

 

But Hajime is already asleep.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hajime is dreaming. Probably. He hasn’t had one in a long, long time. He’s trying to wake up. Dreams have never been sweet for him. They were all nightmares, and nothing in this darkness he’s in is proving to be anything better.

 

There’s an invisible force tugging at the hem of his shirt, whispering incomprehensible words. Hajime tries to struggle free, but each time he manages to repel the force, it returns, more persistent than before.

 

“...up. Wake up. Wake up, Iwa-chan!”

 

Hajime’s eyes burst open with a choked gasp and the sudden movement causes him to fall off his bed. His breaths are ragged as he lays there, trying to calm his thudding heart. A spirit hovers over him, looking sheepish.

 

“Sorry. I was trying to wake you up.”

 

 _Of course he’s still here_. Since when did spirits listen to him anyway? Hajime lets his eyes rest for another good three seconds before he sits up and check the time. 8:08a.m. It’s a little early, but what can he do but to wake up. So he stands and rubs the back of the head before heading for the bathroom.

 

Oikawa trails after him, his presence causing the goosebumps down Iwaizumi’s arm to never rest. “Is it okay to be taking it so easy? Isn’t there school today?”

 

“No classes from now till the Sports Tournament is over cause I’m in a sports class. Practice begins at 5p.m.”

 

Oikawa gives a low whistle. “Sports class! You must be smart, Iwa-chan.”

 

Hajime wets his towel and rubs it over his face, the back of his neck, down his arms and across his chest. Not only are there more spirits in Tokyo, but the summer here is ruthless. He almost misses the summers back home, where his ice cream would be melting as he ate it, not melted before he even unwraps it.

 

He squeezes water out of his cleaned towel and puts it back on the hook next to the sink. Looking in the mirror, all he sees is himself. But in his reality, an unknown entity is speaking to him. “You aren’t, Oikawa… -san?”

 

 _-san_ , because Oikawa is, it dawns upon Hajime, older. It completely slipped his mind due to the way they interacted the night before. Oikawa bursts out laughing at his awkward way of addressing.

 

“It’s fine without the honorifics. I’m a dead man, after all.”

 

Hajime knows what Oikawa says make sense, but he can’t help but frown upon his choice of words. The unsettling feeling reaches his hands, and he starts brushing his teeth so furiously foam bubbles out of his mouth and Oikawa’s having an even bigger laugh.

 

“And no, I was just an average student with average grades.”

 

By the time he’s seated with breakfast, Hajime is exhausted, and the clock only reads 8:43a.m. As he prepares to put the first spoonful of his omelette into his mouth, he pauses. Can’t blame him, really. It’s hard to eat when there’s a translucent being is staring wide-eyed at your food.

 

“It looks goooooood,” Oikawa drawls.

 

Hajime does put the spoon in his mouth then, and chews. As unfortunate as it sounds, spirits can no longer smell or taste, neither do they sleep. The reality of spirits is that they are souls who are tied to the world of the living due to one reason or another, forced to wander until they let go and are able to pass on.

 

Hajime swallows. “Yeah, well, it’s good.”

 

“Nghhhhh!” Oikawa flickers in and out of sight annoyingly, circling the dining table. With closed eyes and keeping them focused solely on his plate when open, Hajime manages to eat peacefully. He only opens his mouth as he washes the empty plate by the sink.

 

“Didn’t I ask you to leave by morning? I’ll exorcise you, you know.”

 

“Hmph. You should be honored that I am offering myself as your coach! Even if you exorcise me, I’ll definitely be back to haunt you. Grrr!”

 

Hajime can’t help but chuckle at that before he gives a slow, resigned shake of his head.

 

“Do what you want. Just don’t cause me any trouble.”

 

Oikawa does just that. He enters Hajime’s room without permission, floating through all his things. Even though he knows that Oikawa can’t actually _touch_ anything, it feels just as unsettling to have someone _float past_ them. A different kind of intrusion.

 

“Oooh, I read this manga too!” Oikawa leans into his bookshelf, pointing at a series Hajime follows currently. Just saying, but his shelves are actually filled with decent books. A certain someone’s eyes just happened to be looking for the wrong thing.

 

Shining eyes turn to Hajime, causing his heart to jump. Out of shock or from the beauty he saw in those eyes? Perhaps both. Hajime admits that much. The spell doesn’t break even when Oikawa speaks.

 

“I haven’t been able to follow it since I died. Update me, like, did they survive the crisis or what!”

 

That sparks the beginning of something Hajime can’t quite name yet. They jump into a heated discussion of the manga, and one topic leads to another.

 

They jump from the manga, to the type of characters and people they like or dislike, to secrets in Hajime’s life he hasn’t shared even with his closest friends. Perhaps they’re more alike than he thinks.

 

Hajime’s phone vibrates, and it doesn’t stop. Puzzled he picks it up, wondering if someone’s calling, because no one ever calls, and sees that it’s his alarm for practice. An alarm that he sets but has never needed to go off.

 

He feels weight on his shoulder; Oikawa’s _leaning_ against him. Oh Gods. A spirit is leaning against him.

 

“Oh! If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for practice, Iwa-chan! Hustle now!”

 

“Don’t call me Iwa-chan.”

 

 

***

 

 

 

“You know, Iwa-chan, if you just toss the ball a little higher, your spike will be at least twice as strong!”

 

“Hmm…” Hajime twists his arm, testing Oikawa’s words. Despite how he usually acts, Oikawa _is_ a pro, and his advice has helped Hajime see things he never would’ve been able to alone. “Also, don’t call me Iwa-chan.”

 

It’s fully dark out, 10p.m. Other than the mall next to the university, there is nothing much to see in the area, and Hajime appreciates the silence graced upon him whenever he walks home at these hours. Spirits are more attracted to the hospital than an empty road, and it is only by chance that a certain spirit is next to him, giving him advice on volleyball.

 

“No, no, not like that!” Oikawa’s brows furrow and his cheeks puff up, like that of a child who does not approve of what his parents did to his room. Hands close around Hajime’s arm, guiding him. His heart makes a weird, loud sound, confusing him.

 

“Iwa-chan, are you list…” Oikawa’s sulking face that was before Hajime’s fades away like a strong wind blew past, though the air is dead and Hajime is left staring at the flickering lamp post.

 

“Oikawa?” He looks around, but it’s only him and occasion cars that drive past the otherwise quiet street of the night. No matter how he thinks of it, it just wasn’t normal for spirits to disappear like that.

 

As he stands in idle thoughts, someone approaches. Approaching _him_. Hajime turns, tense.

 

“Aha! Knew it was you, boy.”

 

Hajime relaxes. “Oh. It’s just you, Touma-san.”

 

The figure flickers. “What do you mean, _it’s just you_? How rude.”

 

He can’t help smiling, but it dies quickly. “Touma-san. Have you seen Oikawa? Oh, he’s a spirit in a volleyball uniform. I don’t think he’s been dead very long. He just suddenly disappeared in the middle of his sentence.”

 

Touma folds his arms before his chest and gives a knowing sigh. “Ah, the young lad. Not been dead for long, you say? Then he’s most likely reliving the cycle.”

 

Hajime frowns. “Hey, terms. I’m a living human, remember.”

 

“Oh, right! Sorry, I keep forgetting that. The cycle is something all of us dead people go through. One of the requirements for passing on is to overcome our cycle. But the cycle…” Touma’s form gives a shudder.

 

“So… What is it?”

 

“Every day, without us realizing for years or even decades, we relive our deaths at the exact same place and time.”

 

Hajime inhales so sharply he feels something in him tear. He’s never heard of this. Reliving their deaths? Is that why sometimes he sees spirits jumping out to the streets in broad daylight or wrap their hands around their necks like they’re suffering though nothing is there?

 

“It took me seven years,” Touma continues. “Just to comprehend the cycle. Another five to come to terms with it. Some unfortunate ones lose themselves to the darkness. If that Oikawa boy is still a fresh wanderer, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing.”

 

“So he’s just unconsciously returning to his place of death and doing it over and over?”

 

“Yup. We can just leave him for now though, he’ll be back by mor…”

 

Hajime doesn’t even register the rest of Touma’s words, just gives his thanks and he’s sprinting towards the hospital. He really dislikes it. The hospital. Even back in his hometown it’s one of the places just crawling with moaning spirits. The sounds used to give him nightmares.

 

When the red cross comes into view, Hajime puts in his ear plugs and a song automatically begins to play. Never one for loud music, he turns the volume up until all he hears are the drums and guitars and a clear singing voice.

 

Hoards of spirits come into his view, nearly obstructing his vision. He closes his eyes and passes them, wandering the perimeters of the building. It’s a huge building and there are not only dead but also living people, and Hajime has no idea what he was thinking when he just charged here without knowing anything.

 

Still, he runs and he looks. Past the gray spirits, in search of only one in white and red stripes, wearing the number 1 shirt Hajime has dreamed of.

 

Something falls from above.

 

In the darkness he would’ve missed it, but with all the lights illuminating every floor Hajime sees it clearly. From the fifth storey, someone falls. No one else is looking. His feet are moving before he knows it.

 

“Oikawa!!”

 

It’s stupid, isn’t it? Throwing himself forward to save someone who’s already dead. But Hajime sees him. He can touch him. He decides that’s a good enough reason as he crashes onto marbles.

 

This time, people gasp and gather. Someone rushes off to get a nurse. All Hajime sees are blank eyes regaining their glowing amber, looking back at him.

 

“What was that, Iwa-chan?”

 

“I don’t know.” And that’s an honest answer.

 

“I think I do. You’re an overly nice idiot.”

 

Hajime thinks he’s dreaming by that point, because he feels the warmth of Oikawa against his lips.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hajime wakes with urgency.

 

 _Oikawa_.

 

Then a sharp pain makes him wince and he’s lying back on a bed. A middle aged doctor is looking down at him.

 

“Iwaizumi-san, yes? How are you feeling?”

 

“Suckish.”

 

The doctor chuckles, which Hajime takes as a good sign. He sits up and test his bandaged arm. Not too bad, but he’ll have to be taken off the team. _Shit_.

 

“What happened to you? Witnesses claimed you just jumped into their sight.”

 

“Ah…” That’s right. No one else saw what he did. To other people, Hajime probably looks like a crazy person who decided to jump at nothing and ended up getting hurt. “I dropped something and it was rolling away, so I tried to jump for it. That wasn’t a good move I guess.”

 

“Certainly not, young man,” the doctor speaks in an unnaturally deep voice, causing both to crack a smile. “You have a few bruises, but nothing serious. I’ll prescribe you some medicine, and you can return in a week for another checkup.”

 

“Right. Thank you.” He gathers his things some kind souls gathered for him, and hurries to make his payment and exit the hospital. One reason being how many spirits were in the same room as him earlier, and because he’s worried about Oikawa, who wasn’t there.

 

Hajime brisk walks, for his ankle is twisted and he can’t afford to worsen the injury. He wants, more than anything, more than Oikawa, to be back to the team ASAP. But when he reaches home, it’s empty. Sunlight pierces through the gaps between his curtains, and it has been more than 12 hours since the accident, but Oikawa isn’t around.

 

The adrenaline rush he feels dissipates all at once, and Hajime switches into his exhausted mode, dropping his full weight onto the sofa. What was he expecting? From a spirit, no less. His phone chooses that moment to vibrate, and he has to take twenty seconds just to get it out of his pocket.

 

It’s a reply from his coach about the accident.

 

 _It’s okay_ , it says. _Don’t worry about the match. Just focus on recovering_.

 

Similar messages from his teammates flood the group chat, and Hajime doesn’t bother replying. He wonders why he even bothered sending a message in the first place. This is no longer high school. It’s go big or go home, and Hajime is beginning to consider the latter.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Hajime returns to the hospital exactly one week after. He has no recollection of how the week even passed. Then, in a blink of an eye, he found that it had already went by.

 

He no longer need bandages, the wounds closed and scabs formed. The same doctor examines him, and Hajime keeps his eyes closed, avoiding any possible chances of making eye contact with any spirits. It’s dark out, after all. He doesn’t think he can go through another Oikawa again.

 

Speaking of which.

 

“All done. You’re having a speedy recovery! Splendid patient, Iwaizumi-san. At this rate, you’ll be good as new by next week.”

 

“Great to know,” Hajime answers politely. “Oh, and, sensei?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

 _Here goes nothing._ “Do you perhaps know anything about Oikawa? He’s a patient from this hospital.”

 

Fingers flipping through his medical reports come to a standstill.

 

“What’s your relationship to the patient?”

 

So Oikawa was from here after all. “I’m something like his disciple. I haven’t heard from him in a bit, then I found out what happened to him…”

 

The doctor nods, eyes downcast. “I see… My condolences. I was actually the doctor who was helping him with therapy. He was always giving his best. Everyday for two hours, he forced himself to stand up by himself when he fell. By the end of therapy, he was always covered in sweat.”

 

Hajime hangs his head, saying nothing. What can he say? He hasn’t known Oikawa for very long. He rubs along the bruises on his arm, lost in thoughts.

 

“Please go and talk to him more. It’d be great to have the man wake up soon, especially now that his transplant is successful.”

 

Time comes to a standstill. Hajime isn’t sure what exactly he heard. It registers slowly. He blinks. Once, twice, then the world is back to normal.

 

“His transplant… was successful.”

 

“Yes. I’m sure everyone is waiting for him to wake up from his coma.”

 

_Successful transplant._

 

_Coma._

 

He’s alive. Oikawa’s not dead. His body is still here, in the hospital, waiting for his spirit self.

 

“...Sensei? What’s his room number again?”

 

“That’d be 405. Why? ...Hey, Iwaizumi-san?!”

 

Hajime flies out of his seat as he looks out the transparent glass. Directly across, the patient wards. Bright lights he still remember clearly illuminating the building. A lone figure with half his body leaning out of a shut window.

 

He recalls Touma’s words, forgotten until now: _Every day, without us realizing for years or even decades, we relive our deaths at the exact same place and time._

 

Oikawa is at it again.

 

“Thank you, sensei. I - I need to go.” And he goes, past the hallway and a crowd of people, living and dead. He limps down the stairs three at a time, for the lift is high up at the 8th floor, and he knows it will go up to the 12th.

 

When he reaches Oikawa, the spirit is half sinking into the earth, and Hajime wonders what he sees in there, but not for long. He grabs the one thing that’s still above ground - his hair - and pulls. There’s no shout, no complaint, not even a flinch. _He’s unconscious._

 

Hajime uses both hands and pull. It hurts, he’s using too much force, but as he remembers Touma’s warning, he can’t seem to give up. _Some unfortunate ones lose themselves to the darkness._

 

Not on his watch.

 

Unwilling to strain himself furthermore, Hajime decides to switch his method. This one he’ll be taking a huge risk with, but he also has confidence it’d work. It has, every single time so far with Oikawa. He doesn’t see why not now.

 

Curling his hand into a fist, Hajime raises it, and brings it down on Oikawa’s head, hard. Like the way he’s been taught with all those nights of practice. Of hand on hand, tossing jokes over a net. Oikawa sinks completely into the ground, not a trace to be found. Certain spirits who noticed the happenings gather, but Hajime doesn’t give them so much as a hint of a glance.

 

 _Come up_ , he prays silently. _Come on, Oikawa._

 

For the longest time, nothing happens. Even the spirits that gathered scatters, and Hajime bites down on his lips. Is this really it? Is Oikawa…

 

“IT HURTS!” Oikawa bursts out from the ground, and Hajime thinks he may cry.

 

“Christ, Iwa-chan, what did you… Hey, what’s wrong?” Warm hands cradle his cheeks and rub the forming tears away. Hajime realises, once more, that yes, Oikawa is warm because he’s _alive_. From his touch to his smile, the warmth is proof that he’s alive.

 

“Iwa-chan. Come on, let’s go home.”

 

Even as Hajime takes the outstretched hands, the doctor’s words echo in his mind. _I’m sure everyone is waiting for him to wake up from his coma._

 

Oikawa Tooru is alive, and he doesn’t belong to Iwaizumi Hajime.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading to the end of part 1!
> 
> ...Well, yes, part 1 of 3 parts... Gotta have dem pain. Hope I manage to get part 2 out by Oikawa's birthday!


End file.
